


Back To The Sky

by Azertyrobaz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azertyrobaz/pseuds/Azertyrobaz
Summary: Spoilers for Chapter 9 - Din and Baby ride back to Mos Eisley and intend to get out of Peli's hair quickly, but that's before she notices how smelly they both are.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 30
Kudos: 237





	Back To The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Pure fluff for your Sunday, it's bath time!
> 
> Couldn't resist writing a post Chapter 9 fic (even if I had promised myself I wouldn't). Enjoy! :)

The ride back to Mos Eisley was purely fueled by adrenaline. Din had barely slept since he landed on Tatooine, and he knew the child hadn’t either. It had been hard to get him to settle – the massiffs’ presence had worried him despite his reassurances that they wouldn’t hurt him if he was around. He had only dozed for a couple of hours in his arms before the twin suns rose.

The twin suns were now setting, and he hoped he’d reach Peli’s hangar before complete darkness engulfed the desert. It could get absurdly cold during the night – very dangerous to boot – and he’d had enough excitement for the day. He also yearned for his berth on the Crest. Not the most comfortable, but he’d be able to sleep in a horizontal position: a luxury he couldn’t always afford, but one that his ageing body required more and more lately.

He kept looking back towards the kid at regular intervals, hoping that he’d somehow conk out and that it would be easy to put him in his crib once they reached the ship. But given how noisy the speeder’s old engine was – not to mention the 50 pounds piece of meat next to him that had _definitely_ caught his attention earlier – it was no wonder his ears were still flapping away happily in the wind, eyes wide open in wonder.

Din’s legs were just starting to cramp as they finally entered the still very much lively town. He slowed to a crawl and tried to find a more comfortable position on the speeder, his back complaining fiercely at the movement. He swallowed a groan when he finally dismounted the bike, under the worried squeaks of the pit droids – they’d probably never warm up to him, but that was okay.

“There you both are, and in one piece, thank the Force! I was almost starting to doubt your talent, Mandalorian,” greeted Peli, coming out of her shed. Floodlights were now on in the hangar, as the suns had resolutely set.

Din grunted in reply, and tried to find it in him to be nice to her for just a little longer – after all, they’d both soon be on their way and she’d been nothing but kind to him and the kid.

“Kriff, I thought you wanted to _talk_ to that other Mando, not _kill_ him!” she exclaimed, approaching him.

Mystified by her reaction at first, he followed her gaze and saw it linger on the armor parts he’d tied to the back of the speeder. _Right_.

“It’s not what you think,” he explained, lamely – but rest was beckoning him and almost at hand, the Crest looking awfully tempting in all its rusty glory. “I didn’t find a Mando, just someone wearing Mandalorian armor.”

“And so you killed him,” she assumed nonchalantly.

“No,” he refuted, “he _gave_ me the armor.”

“Willingly?” she asked, eyebrows raised in clear disbelief.

_Was that really how she saw him?_

“Yes, we had a deal,” he replied simply, too tired to argue or give more details.

“And did you… _oh my stars_ , what is that smell?” Peli uttered just as she was about to pick up the kid from the saddle bag.

“We slayed a krayt dragon, there was a lot of meat to go around,” Din started, assuming that was the source of the smell she was complaining about, removing the cloth covering it so that she could have a look. “Do you want a piece of it?” he wondered, seeing how wide her eyes had gotten.

“You slayed a… _nevermind_ , you should get that in your freezer before it rots, I’ll get to cuddle this womp rat one last time while you do that,” she huffed, getting the child out and earning herself a happy coo.

Din grumbled but did as she suggested, his back reminding him all the way up the ramp that he needed out of the armor, and _soon_. The deep freezer was conveniently almost empty and the block would have fit inside, but he took the necessary time to cut it into four more manageable pieces, knowing he’d regret it later otherwise. He discarded his jetpack before rejoining Peli and the kid, and immediately sighed in relief. That thing was definitely proving useful but _kriff,_ he was not getting any younger.

The mechanic was eyeing his kid a bit strangely, holding him by his sides in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, approaching quickly, unable to mask his worry. _Was he hurt?_

“The critter stinks,” Peli complained.

“He _doesn’t_ stink,” Din immediately countered, piqued. But as he got closer, Peli’s grimace got more pronounced.

“It wasn’t the krayt dragon’s carcass, it’s _you_ ,” she realized. “You are _rank_!”

Din sighed. He hadn’t slept for three days. A beast had almost digested him. Sand had gotten everywhere in his suit. Although he would be able to honor a fallen brother, the quest had been another frustrating dead-end. And she was complaining about the _smell_? Worse than that, that his _foundling_ smelled?

“We’ll soon be out of your hair, don’t worry,” he uttered sarcastically.

“I mean look at you!” she continued, unfazed, as he’d reached her side to take the baby from her. “What happened? And what is that green stuff covering you?” she wondered, and would have gotten residue on her hand if he hadn’t pulled back.

“Careful,” he warned. “It could still burn.”

“Burn? What do you mean?”

Din picked up the kid and put him on the ground – it wouldn’t be safe for him either to take him in his arms until he had cleaned his armor better – he’d barely had time to wipe it down with some sand before leaving the dragon’s final resting place, not wanting to linger longer than necessary.

“It’s some kind of acid,” he tried to explain.

“Acid?” Peli repeated.

“Gastric juices or something.”

“Gastric _what_? Did you let that dragon eat you?” she sniggered, then stopped when she saw his reaction. “Oh you _did_ , didn’t you. I take what I said last time back: you’re _not_ smarter than you look.”

Din sighed again and looked at his feet – the little one was trying to climb on his boot. Did they both really smell that bad? Sure, they’d been riding a bantha for several hours and that cantina’s spittoon the boy had taken for a good hiding spot had definitely not been pristine but… Was that his helmet’s filter preventing him from agreeing with her?

“Here,” she said, handing him a cloth from her belt. “It works on the worst kinds of engine oils and fuels, it should get rid of that goo on your armor.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and started using it on the parts he could reach.

“I’m gonna feed the womp rat and wash his stinky clothes – you really should have replaced them already – while you shower, then _you_ can give him a bath.”

Din stopped his movements.

“It’s fine, I have a shower on the ship…”

“A sonic one,” she interrupted.

“…and we have food,” he continued, although his plan for the next few hours had included rest only, not food, and definitely not _baths_.

“I made soup for the little one especially,” she complained fiercely. “You are gonna let me feed him and you are gonna _wash_.”

“Fine, feed him,” he caved. “I’ll finish cleaning the armor and wash on the Crest.”

“The sonic shower won’t get rid of the smell.”

“The _armor_ smells, I don’t,” he replied, peeved.

“Your clothes smell,” she countered.

“I have clean ones.”

“Then grab them and some soap and use the shower at the back of the workshop, there should be enough hot water for the two of you.”

“I’m not…”

“Shower. _Now_. Or I’ll have the pit droids make an even bigger mess of your ship’s wiring.”

Din lowered his shoulders and would have continued arguing if the thought of an actual shower hadn’t sounded so enticing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed in warm water. His sore muscles _twitched_ at the prospect. And really, it would have been rude to refuse, right?

So he walked back to the Crest and tried not to feel too ridiculous as he made his way to the small room she pointed to armed with clean clothes, a towel and soap, and locked the door behind him.

“Kriff!” he exclaimed, seeing his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His armor was covered in sticky dragon juices, dust and sand.

So maybe he _did_ smell a bit.

He got confirmation when he slowly removed his helmet and the air filter stopped doing its job. He _had_ smelled worse, but this was no doubt in the top ten. Methodically, he removed and wiped each piece of his armor with the cloth Peli had lent him, marveling at its efficiency. He was tempted to ask her what it was exactly, but he didn’t intend to get eaten by krayt dragons on a regular basis. His many layers came off next, and he wondered if it was any use washing them – maybe he should just burn them, sand was notoriously hard to eradicate, and it had gotten _everywhere_.

His lower back on the cusp of seizing up after bending down for so long over his armor to clean it, he finally got under the warm spray. Closed his eyes. Sighed. And didn’t move for five long minutes.

“Leave some hot water for the kid!” came Peli’s voice as she was banging on the door, making him jump about a foot high in the cubicle.

“Yeah, yeah…” he replied, once he had valiantly managed _not_ to slip and crack his head on the tiles.

He washed his hair first – getting too long, he noted absentmindedly – then washed them a second time until they felt softer to the touch. His movements turned slow and sluggish as he washed the rest of himself, the warm water turning his muscles to putty. _Dank farrik, he could get used to this_. And he idly wondered if he could splurge on a boiler for the Crest.

Din toweled himself dry and put on the clean under layers and clothes he had brought with him, then his armor, finishing with his helmet after reminding himself that he needed to shave at one point as well. He was still in a warm, fuzzy trance as he exited the small bathroom, and could have easily fallen asleep right there and then if not for Peli’s strident tone.

“Why did you put the whole armor on for? You still need to give the kid a bath!”

 _Right_.

“Go fill that with warm water,” she demanded, handing him a basin. “That is, if there is any hot water left.”

Din grumbled and did as she asked, thinking it would mean getting on his ship – and in his bed – faster. But he realized too late that sleep was still a long way off when she handed him the kid – fed, happy, and swaddled in a cloth as his robes were probably drying somewhere. He _did_ bathe the child. Every once in a while. But that was in the kitchenette tiny sink. _Not_ in a two-feet deep tub of water.

“You’re doing this completely wrong!” criticized Peli, as he sat back on his heels with a sigh.

Din had removed his gloves and vambraces, and was in the process of trying to wash the boy’s ears. There was water _everywhere_ already, and the slippery child kept on escaping his grip, preferring to duck his head underwater and blow bubbles. He’d scared the _hell_ out of him the first time he’d done that on the Crest, but after his heart had stopped trying to escape his ribcage, he’d reasoned that it meant he wouldn’t drown if he ever fell in a puddle or something. _Probably_.

“He just wants to play for a bit, you’re the one who’s given him toys,” he reminded her, watching the kid go after the small engine parts the mechanic had deemed safe enough for him.

“Yes, for him to focus on while you _wash_ him, which you are _supposed_ to do.”

“He’s having fun, it’s fine, let him be,” he grumbled, putting the bar of soap on the side for now.

“Look at you! You’re actually a big softie, Mando,” Peli cackled, but sat back down next to him and observed the kid.

“You’re really going to hand him back to his people?” she asked in a smaller voice, silence stretching between them, interrupted by regular happy squeaks from the kid.

“If I can find them,” he shrugged. “This is the way.”

“Not that you’ve grown attached to him or anything,” she remarked, very much aware of the buttons she could push.

“Mmh,” he replied non-committally, and easily picked up the moment the child started to grow tired. After all, she was right.

The boy passively let himself be washed, grumbled when he attacked his ears, but cooed in pleasure when he stroked his round tummy.

“Why don’t you keep the basin?” she suggested as he came back after emptying it in the shower. She was swaying slightly, the kid bundled up in a thick towel, eyes starting to close.

Din nodded, grateful. Baths would be a good way to put him to sleep in the future.

“And I think you could fit a boiler in that fresher of yours,” she remarked, and he wondered if she had figured out he’d been thinking the exact same thing earlier on.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, accepting the baby from her arms, and watching him succumb to sleep. “For the once-over on the ship and the kid’s soup and…”

“Nothing,” she quickly interrupted his rambling. “But promise me one thing, Mandalorian.”

“What is it?”

“If you find his family, come see me one last time so that I can give him a proper goodbye,” Peli requested.

“I will,” Din promised, a lump forming in his throat. He’d rather not think about that just yet.

As they finally took off, the boy safely asleep in his crib, he realized that he hadn’t given her his name, and he’d wanted to. _Next time_ , he vowed, and set a course that would allow him a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, before he needed to figure out where to go.

Next time.


End file.
